Page 111 of The Duke and the Disciple

Rahn could hardly make sense of it. Pieter’s offer. Aesylt actually considering it. “Anorgy?”

She rubbed her eyes with a shuddery yawn. “Ancestors, I can hardly speak anymore; I’m so tired. What an exhausting evening.”

“Aesylt, you’re seriously... Youwantto do this?”

“Want?” She scoffed. “Ineedto be a researcher, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to achieve it. Want has nothing to do with it.”

“This is beyond the pale.” Rahn shook his head, too astounded to form the words he needed to. “This is madness. Even if... No, no.”

“Why not?” she asked through languid blinks. “Why would this be out of bounds when nothing else has been?”

“Because... because it involves other people,” he sputtered. Why were words so hard? Why could he not find voice for all his objections? “Because...”

“You don’t have to come.” She rolled onto her back and smoothed her dress. “One of us should be enough.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

Rahn bolted upright. “Aesylt, this is serious. With you and me there’s trust and understanding. We bring outsiders into this, and there’s no telling how it will change the variables, how it will affect the outcomes.”

She stood, wobbling for balance atop the mountain of fallen dresses. “I need to clean this up. The clothiers begin their day at dawn.”

The world seemed to whirl out of control, and he was left with nothing to right it. “We don’t have to decide anything now,” he said, looking to slow the spin somehow. “We can talk about this some more, weigh the advantages and risks?—”

“I’ve already decided,” Aesylt said. “And I don’t expect you to come with me, Scholar. If you change your mind, it’s happening the evening after tomorrow.”

The spell had broken. She was back to calling him Scholar. “Sosoon?”

“It happens once a moon cycle.” She leaped onto an open spot of floor and tugged at one of the racks, casually straightening things up like she hadn’t just told him she planned to attend an orgy in two days’ time. “I’ll need you to get up.”

Dazed, Rahn scooted off the pile and found his footing. “You cannot know all the ways this could go wrong.”

“In fairness, Scholar, neither can you.”

“There has to be something else... something on the list you’ve been wanting to try but are maybe afraid to ask?”

Aesylt paused. The gown in her hands drooped to her side. “There is something, but it’s not on the list. And it has nothing to do with the Reliquary or our research.”

He held out his hands. “All right, what is it?”

“It won’t change my decision.”

Rahn sighed. “Tell me anyway.”

“The Dyvareh.” She set the dress aside. “I’d like to recreate it, except... This time, I want to be caught. By you.”

For the second time that night, Aesylt had left him without the ability to speak.

“And when you catch me, there are no rules. No limits. No... safety.”

“You...” Rahn pulled his hands down his face. The stability of their strange interlude was slipping away, faster than he could grab it. “Why?”

She shrugged, turning away, but not fast enough for him to miss the little smile she tried to hide. “I realized it was a fantasy of mine. And you’re the only one I trust to try it with.”

Gods, if she knew how many times he’d fallen asleep dreaming of that very thing—hand on his shaft, his shame deeper than the sea. He’d discovered early in his life that while he was a mostly reticent man, there were times when the only thing he wanted was to dominate someone. To have total control over their pleasures... their pain. Aesylt had given him an outlet for it, but he wanted more. So much more. More than he felt safe acting on with her.

Because the fear of losing himself was suffocating.

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